


Like a Warm Hand in Mine

by Lumelle



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwarf Courting, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7974625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fíli catches a dangerous disease, only those who are immune to it due to previous exposure are allowed near. This leads to Ori sitting with him, not that he minds terribly much.</p><p>Who knows, maybe something good will come of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Warm Hand in Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meliana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meliana/gifts).



> Originally written as a birthday fic. Basically, this is just shameless sickfic with fluffy fluff in the end.

Ori wasn't sure how long he had been standing in the hallway by the time Fíli finally arrived, but it had started to get rather chilly.

"Ori?" Fíli sounded somewhat surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah. Waiting for you, actually." Ori offered up the covered dish in his hands. "Bombur noticed you weren't at dinner, so he asked me to bring you something."

"You've been waiting for me?" Fíli blinked, but took the offered food anyway. "You didn't have to do that!"

"I know. I wanted to make sure you got it, though." Ori rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah. You had a long day, then?"

"As usual, yeah. Some of the workers stayed there even after they left."

"Well, there's a lot of work to be done. We don't have nearly enough safe areas established yet." Ori frowned as Fíli coughed rather loudly. "Are you all right? That sounds bad."

"Ah, I'll be fine. Just a bit too much dust in the deep chambers, I think." Fíli gave him a wan smile. "But just in case it's some sort of a bug, I don't want you to catch it, so I hope you'll forgive me if I don't stay and chat. It's rude of me, I know, especially after you went to such trouble for me."

"No, it's fine. You go and eat and then get some proper sleep! You look really tired."

"Understood." Fíli's smile spread into a tired little grin. "You know, you almost sound like Dori when you get bossy like that."

This absolutely preposterous accusation left Ori spluttering and searching for an answer while Fíli slipped past him into the royal quarters. As he recovered, he figured it was for the better, anyway. If he'd stayed much longer alone with Fíli in a dark hallway, he might have done something utterly ridiculous, like blushed at the idea of having Fíli all to himself, even just for a moment.

No need for anyone else to know how far gone he was.

*

"Where's Fíli?"

Ori was rather glad Bofur asked the question, so he didn't have to. If he had started wondering aloud why Fíli wasn't present, that might have seemed odd, while nobody would think twice of the sociable Bofur making the same inquiry. Not that it was that unusual for people to miss the shared breakfast Bombur still liked to cook for the Company, and even now only a handful of them were there, but Fíli was one of the people who were almost never absent. Except now he was nowhere to be found, even as Kíli and Thorin were already seated at the table, and Ori didn't like the idea of that.

"Still in bed, I'm afraid." Kíli looked up from where he had been studiously ignoring Thorin and Bilbo's conversation in favour of dividing his attention between his breakfast plate and a very involved conversation with Tauriel. Ori wasn't quite close enough to hear their low voices beyond a few choice words, such as "shaft" and "penetration", but he chose to believe it involved bows and arrows, considering they were within easy earshot from Thorin and even Kíli would hesitate to broach any less appropriate subjects there. "He was feeling pretty ill, had a horrible cough for one thing. Óin went to see him, I think."

"Oh?" Ori frowned. "That's unfortunate. He did have a cough last night, but I didn't think it would be so serious."

"Is that so?" Dori's tone was one of forced levity. "And why would you have been seeing him last night?"

"He missed dinner, so Bombur got worried and asked me to take some food for him," Ori replied, forcing himself to stay calm and ignore Kíli's grins from the other side of the table. "Is that explanation sufficient?"

"I suppose that will do." Even so, Dori seemed about to say something else, but was interrupted by the door to the direction of the royal quarters opening.

"Óin!" Thorin greeted, only to immediately frown as he took another look at the healer. "What's wrong? How is Fíli?" He stood up and made to walk closer, but Óin stopped him with a raised hand.

"I'll have to ask that you don't come closer," Óin said, his eyes even more grim than usual. "I'm afraid it's my duty to inform you, Your Majesty, that I've found lungrot in your mountain."

Ori froze, more feeling than seeing the way everyone around him did the same.

"Lungrot?" Bilbo echoed over the sudden silence. "That sounds downright dreadful!"

"Believe me, the truth is even worse." Bofur shook his head slowly, even his moustache limping down. "There aren't many diseases that can bring down a dwarf, but lungrot is the worst of the few. It spreads eagerly and lingers long, and once it comes there is little even our best healers can do except wait."

"You are sure?" Kíli somehow sounded even younger than his years, his eyes locked on Óin with a mix of despair and desperate hope in them. "There isn't any way you could be mistaken?"

"Believe me, lad, I've seen this blight often enough to know it." Óin sighed, shaking his head. "I'll have to ask none enter the sickroom, save those who've survived it in the past, and only if they must."

"Right." Thorin straightened himself, and if Kíli had sounded young, then Thorin looked much older than usual in Ori's fearful eyes. "We'll make the quarters the sickroom, and arrange a way in and out that won't cross the path of others. I've heard too many stories of the sickness clinging to those who thought themselves safe, then to cross onto others."

"We must find out where he got it," Balin interjected. "He's been supervising the rebuilding groups this last week or so, hasn't he?"

"That's right." Ori was surprised to recognise his own voice, quiet though it was. "He's been there all day, every day. I made him gloves because his hands got cold in the deep chambers."

"So it must have been from the workers there." Balin nodded thoughtfully. "I'll spread the word that they all ought to get examined, and any who fall sick quarantined. Whoever Fíli caught it from must have already fallen ill themselves."

"Ask around for healers who have survived it before, and any others who might be of help." There was a sort of determination in Thorin's voice that almost managed to hide the fear within. Almost, but not quite. "Let everyone know that any who are sick will be treated on the king's coin, and their wages paid for the duration. I don't want anyone working themselves to death trying to hide their condition."

"I can help."

"No, Ori." Dori's protest was immediate, the worry clear in his expression. "I won't allow that."

"I've survived it before, though! When I was forty. There's no danger for me." At least, there wasn't supposed to be.

"Even so. You're not the strongest dwarf, still, and if one of the patients has some other illness, I don't want you catching that."

"Then let me sit with Fíli, at least." Ori turned his imploring eyes from his brother to Thorin. "Since Master Óin is certain of his assessment, I will be safe around him. You'll need all the healers you can spare, but I can't bear to think of Fíli being alone, and moving him to where the other patients are would not be good, either. I have no pressing duties, I can stay in his room until he recovers and make sure he has everything he needs."

Thorin appeared to hesitate, glancing at Dori before he slowly nodded. "Very well. You are a smart lad, I'm sure Óin can teach you what you need to know to tend him. You are right that Óin's time is better spent tending many patients rather than one, and having you with Fíli the whole time would also mean there's less people walking in and out, possibly spreading the sickness."

Dori made a sort of a choking sound, but didn't protest. Ori turned his gaze to Óin, who scratched his beard.

"Aye, I can teach what you need to know." Óin nodded. "It won't be exciting, but someone's got to do it. Be warned, though, don't wear anything you're too attached to," he added then. "Nothing's going to be brought out of those rooms except through fire."

Ori thought of the gloves he had made, knitted out of the finest wool yarn he had found and made as warm and soft as he could manage, and nodded in understanding.

*

"You're doing this, then."

"Kíli." Ori looked up at Kíli from where he was packing some things in a bag. Some treats Dori had insisted he should take, a couple of knives Nori wanted him to train with, and other such knick-knacks, all gathered in a bag he wouldn't mind losing. He had no doubt that Óin meant it when he said nothing would be brought out of the room except through fire. "Yes, I am."

"Right." Kíli looked lost, but Ori couldn't truly blame him. He knew all too well the feeling of knowing his brothers were in danger and he helpless to do anything, had felt it far too often during their quest. "I — that's good. It's good that he'll have someone around, someone he knows."

"Indeed." Ori somehow managed a smile, though he knew it probably wasn't very convincing. "Dori sat with me when I went through it. Seems only fair I would pass on the favour."

"You still don't have to do this." As though Ori could have done anything else. "They won't even let me see him, you know. And I know it's sensible, wouldn't do any good for me to catch it as well, but I just… I'd like to at least see how he's doing."

"I know what you mean." Ori hesitated, then gathered his courage. "Ah. Why did Thorin ask you to stay? Did he have something else to say, besides that you couldn't see Fíli?" They had dispersed soon after the dreadful news, nobody having much appetite anymore, but Thorin had requested Kíli and Tauriel to stay, along with Óin.

"He had an assignment for me, of sorts." Kíli sighed. "Apparently there are some herbs that Óin can use to make the patients feel somewhat better, but he's low on supplies and not much grows around the mountain. Tauriel said they should be plentiful in Mirkwood, though, so Thorin asked us to ride there to ask them to trade some."

"Right. That sounds sensible." Ori nodded slowly. "It'll take you a while to make it there and back, but the sickness lasts long enough that it will still be of help."

"To be honest, I'm not sure if I hope that it will be pointless, or that there will be some use."

"Fíli will pull through, if that's what you fear." Ori had to believe that, for his own sake as much as Kíli's. "He's one of the strongest dwarves I know. If I could survive it at forty, small and sickly as I was, he shouldn't have any trouble."

"You know it's not that simple, though." Kíli shook his head. "It's worse for some people, and you can never tell who will make it, not until they either recover or…" He trailed off, but then, there was no need for him to finish, anyway.

"He will make it!" Ori was startled by how fierce he sounded, but perhaps he could be forgiven this once. "I just — he has to, right? He's Fíli! He can't be taken down so easily."

"Ori," Kíli said, his voice strangely insistent. "Ori, our father died of lungrot."

"Oh." Ori hadn't thought it would be possible for him to feel any more terrible, but apparently that was possible. "That's — I'm sorry, I didn't —"

"I know." Kíli touched his arm soothingly. "It's fine, Ori, really it is. I know you meant no offence, you're just trying to comfort me." Kíli gave him a wan little smile. "Just… take care of him for me, all right?"

"Right." Ori paused, then on an impulse reached for something he'd set aside earlier, grasping it. Turning to Kíli, he reached out the faded purple ribbons in his hand. "In turn, will you take care of these?"

"Huh?" Kíli blinked. "Isn't that…"

"They were my mother's ribbons, but now they are mine." He usually had them in his braids, but, well. "I don't want to wear them while I sit with Fíli, or they would have to be burned afterwards, too. So, will you take care of them, and I'll take care of Fíli in turn?"

Kíli seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then grasped the ribbons. "It's a deal, then."

It was silly, really, but somehow, a part of Ori felt better for it.

*

The thing was, sitting beside a sickbed got very boring very quickly.

There really wasn't much to do, with Fíli sleeping most of the time and delirious with fever the rest. Ori kept him clean and made him drink, spoke soothingly when his fevered dreams made him toss and turn, and kept an eye out for any changes. Óin gave in twice a day to check on Fíli, and Ori knew someone was always within shouting distance if he needed to have a healer brought in immediately, but other than that, it was just Ori and a more or less sleeping Fíli.

Usually Ori would have found plenty of things to do with so much free time on his hands, would have been knitting or drawing or writing all the time. However, there was little point in doing such work when it all would have had to be destroyed when he left, anyway, and they were still low enough on paper and ink that he couldn't even justify it as practice, with the arriving merchant caravans obviously prioritising the more immediate needs of food and clothing in their wares. He did have the knives Nori had insisted he should learn to carry, had practised some of the things his brother had showed him, but even they could not keep him occupied very long.

It didn't take too long for him to start dozing every now and then in the bed that had been prepared for him, just light sleep that he was shaken from by the smallest sound from Fíli. It wasn't a very restful state, but it was better than nothing, and meant he didn't have to fear sleeping too soundly at night and missing some sign of distress, when he had already gathered some sleep during the day. When he wasn't dozing he started talking, brushing Fíli's sweat-slick hair or fiddling with his knives to keep his hands busy as he spoke of anything and everything that crossed his mind, recounting all the old stories he had read or heard or sharing idle gossip that Fíli probably knew already. It wasn't like he could truly hear anything, anyway, not while wrecked with fever and the sort of coughs that made Ori fear he might never stop.

It was after one of those coughing fits that Fíli, lying exhausted in bed after having bent nearly in double with the coughs, turned his head towards Ori and opened fever-glazed eyes to speak. His voice was quiet and hoarse, but Ori heard it well enough anyway. "Mother?"

Ori's stomach lurched, but he forced himself to stand up to get some water instead. "I'm afraid she's not here yet," he said. "I'm sure she'll arrive soon enough, though. She's probably already on her way." And from what he knew, that was true. It was a long way from Ered Luin to Erebor, longer still with a full caravan, but he knew nothing could stop Dís daughter of Thráin. She would be sensible and time her travel so they passed the mountains in the summer, or at least what passed for summer high on the peaks, and arrive in Erebor before the next winter fell over the desolate plains.

Fíli, of course, didn't hear. "Missed you, mother," he sighed to the image only he could see in the room.

"I know," said Ori, who could not possibly have known. He had never met his mother, who had died bearing him, had only ever known her as the previous owner of his ribbons, as the person who had knitted the few things that had survived through his brothers' use to be passed down to him. Her mastery of the craft had still been evident in the garments even after decades of wear that should have by all rights worn right through even he hardiest wool, but had instead made it soft to the touch and impervious to cold. It had inspired his own call to the craft, his hope to make something as pleasant and comforting for those he loved in turn.

"Did you see Kíli yet?" asked Fìli, and Ori wasn't sure what pained him more, the sight of Fíli so clearly delirious or the sound of his worn, roughened voice. "He's grown so much, mother, you'll be so proud of him. Hope you don't mind an elf for a daughter-in-law, though," he added in a thoughtful tone. "Don't think he's letting go of her any time soon."

Ori wasn't trying to deceive or play along, really he wasn't, didn't know Lady Dís well enough to even try. Even so, he couldn't help the exasperated chuckle that escaped him. "As though I could stand in the way of a Durin's heart." He'd heard far too many stories to believe that, such as the tale of Lady Dís herself, and how she sat in front of her chosen one's home for five days and five nights straight because he didn't believe a princess might take an interest in a lowly hunter.

"Aye, we can be like that." Fíli was interrupted by coughing again, managing to drink some of the water Ori hurried to offer him. Then, he offered a wan smile. "I think I'm lost myself."

"Ah." Ori swallowed. "I'm not sure you ought to tell me this." This was too much, too intimate, too secret. Too capable of breaking his heart.

"No, I want to tell." Fíli shook his head, gazing at the image of his mother somewhere beyond Ori's face. "It's — there's this one dwarf I like. He's just the smartest and prettiest and I just want to make him smile all the time."

"I'm sure you can do that." Ori tried not to sound too affected. Fíli was fevered and delirious, too far gone to even notice that Ori was not, in fact, his mother. His confession was just more of the same delusion, meaning nothing whatsoever. "You make everyone smile." That, at least, was true. Even Thorin would smile at his nephews, and Ori himself was certainly tempted to do so at Fíli's contagious cheer. Not now, though, not when Fíli was miserable and in pain.

"I hope so." Fíli closed his eyes, his lips only barely moving now. "Ori should always be smiling."

That made Ori freeze and stare in shock, but at least Fíli wasn't watching anymore.

*

After weeks of sitting beside Fíli's bed, Ori had run out of stories to tell.

He had told them all at first, then repeated some of his favourites, reasoning that he was entertaining himself more than Fíli, anyway. After that he had started recounting their experiences on the journey to Erebor, and making up some stories on his own, all to pass the time. The whole time Fíli had been almost entirely unresponsive, and if he had said something, it had been unrelated to whatever Ori was talking about.

That was fine, though. It was all fine, as long as he still sometimes heard Fíli's voice, if only for a while.

Óin still visited twice a day, though his visits had grown shorter, as he simply made sure nothing important had changed. Ori had been made responsible for making Fíli drink some thin soups besides mere water, to try and keep some of his strength up. So far he had managed to keep it all inside, which was a good sign. Generally when people started throwing up, it was a sign that things were getting worse.

Sometimes Ori wondered if it could get worse than this, worse than hours and days and weeks of watching Fíli coughing raspily as his body tried to fight off the illness that seemed far too strong for it.

Kíli had returned, now, had spoken with Ori through the door. They couldn't risk anyone catching the air of illness from Ori's clothes, just like Ori knew everyone was giving Óin and the other healers a wide berth when they moved outside the quarantine areas. It seemed they had more or less got the epidemic under control, though quite a few of the workers had managed to catch it, just like Fíli, before the first obvious cases came down with the illness proper. And now Kíli and Tauriel had returned with the herbs Óin had requested and a few more besides, alongside elven merchants who brought other sorts of trade from the woods. Things were still rather tense, Kíli told Ori, but at least it seemed both sides considered mutual trade to be a good idea for now.

It should have been important, Ori knew as much, but at this point he didn't have much interest to spare for the improvement of relations between the two kingdoms. All he cared about was the remedy Óin prepared with his new supplies that eased Fíli's coughing, if only a little. Perhaps that was selfish of him, but at this point, he had little mental strength for anything else.

Ori had run out of stories, now, and moved on to songs, humming quiet lullabies of warm hearths and the safety of stone between joyous songs of riches and triumph, recalling marching songs about sharp blades and spilling blood as well as longing laments of lost homes and hearts. He came up with his own lyrics to a tune he had heard the princes hum but never sign, saying it was only something they had played on their fiddles and never put words to.

It was during this song that Fíli woke up from his slumber, speaking up in a rough voice. "Never heard that sung before."

Ori startled, nearly jumping up from his seat. Fíli had spoken before, of course, in an increasingly worn voice as the cough threatened to ruin it entirely as Ori had heard happened to some people. However, this was the first time he could recall Fíli speaking with such an air of clarity.

"Fíli!" He hurried closer to the bed, reaching to touch Fíli's forehead. It was still hot, but he liked to think it might have been less so than before. "You — how are you feeling?"

"Like I got trampled by a troll." Fíli coughed hard, and Ori immediately went to get him some more water. "I — what happened?"

"You've been sick." Ori swallowed, trying to stop his hands from trembling as he carefully brought the cup of water to Fíli's lips, settling his other hand at the back of Fíli's head to help him drink. "For a long time."

"Feel like it." Fíli licked his lips, leaning his head closer to Ori's hand. Ori really should have drawn away, but somehow he couldn't manage to do so. "How sick?"

"It's, ah." Ori swallowed again. "It's… lungrot." Fíli's eyes widened with shock and a barely concealed fear, and Ori remembered Kíli's words, the ones that had haunted his dreams these past weeks. Their father had died of the same. "But it's fine! I mean, you seem to be getting better now. Óin has been taking good care of you."

"Not just Óin." This wasn't a question, that much was clear in the way Fíli looked at Ori. "Thanks."

"Yes, well, I try to help where I can. And since I've already gone through it, I volunteered to take care of you." Ori carefully lowered Fíli's head back to the pillow. "Don't speak too much, please. I'll tell you all you want to know, but you should try to rest."

He spoke at length, then, about how Fíli was the only one in the Company to have fallen sick, thank Mahal, and made note of how Fíli visibly relaxed when he mentioned both Kíli and Thorin were fine. He told Fíli of the efforts to curb the epidemic, and all the other news Óin shared when he felt like it. Fíli was nice and quiet most of the time, save for the occasional coughing fit, but at one point he couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"No," he gasped as Ori told him Kíli had returned to the mountain and more or less announced he was already married to Tauriel in the eyes of the elves and would rather like to do so among the dwarves, too. "He didn't."

"Oh, he did. He told me himself, though only through the door." Now, Ori actually managed to summon some amusement into his voice. "Apparently elves are simple in that regard, in that if two lovers sleep together, they are considered married. I can't imagine Thorin is very pleased with that, but he's probably less pleased at the thought of being upstaged by elven traditions."

"Right." Fíli closed his eyes, shaking his head minutely against the pillow. "Mahal. Now mother's really going to get on my case about having a long, proper courtship."

"Wouldn't you need someone to court at first?" The words slipped out before Ori could stop them, and once they were out there, he couldn't exactly take them back. Fíli seemed rather unaffected, though, opening his eyes instead to look Ori in the eye.

"Who says I don't already have someone?"

Well. Ori wasn't about to be taken aback so easily. "There is the fact you haven't exactly been able to start a courtship in the last few weeks, and I know damn well you didn't have courtship braids in your hair when I first brushed it through." He blanched when he realised his indirect admission — that he had been brushing Fíli's hair while he was bedridden, a task that by all right should have only belonged to the closest family and friends — but Fíli responded with a grin.

"Well, you've been patiently waiting for me so far." Ori felt his cheeks heating up, but Fíli didn't seem to care. "I hope you can wait until I'm well enough to ask you properly, with a courtship gift and all."

"Ah. That is." Ori floundered for a bit, then finally gathered himself enough to draw a deep breath. "In that case you'll have to get better soon, do you hear? Because I'm not going to be waiting around forever, you know."

If Fíli noticed his obvious lie, at least he didn't call Ori out on it.

*

It was yet four days later that Ori finally left Fíli's sickroom.

As had been agreed, he took off all his clothes in the next room, where a hot bath had been prepared. He'd had the occasional bath even during his time with Fíli, of course, but he wasn't sure he had ever scrubbed himself as thoroughly as he did now. The last thing he wanted was to spread the illness to someone else.

Once he finally felt properly clean, he went on to the next room, where Dori was waiting for him with clean clothes. Of course, he insisted on hugging Ori very thoroughly at first, but then allowed him to get properly dressed while Dori fussed over his hair.

"Just so you know, we're having a proper family dinner tonight," Dori announced, carefully braiding the familiar purple ribbons into Ori's hair. It was good to see Kíli had been taking care of them. "I'll be making your favourite food, too, and Nori agreed to attend. We haven't properly seen you in weeks!"

"That really isn't true," Ori protested, because it wasn't. Having both gone through the illness themselves, Dori and Nori had been responsible for bringing in food and other supplies more often than not. Even so, he wasn't about to argue too much on this, not with Dori in such a mood.

"Nonsense! Those brief glimpses hardly count." Dori shook his head. "Why, I can't even imagine how you passed your time in there!"

"I'll admit that was a problem." Ori paused. "Which reminds me, I'd like to have my knitting needles and some yarn soon."

"But of course! It must be dreadful, going so long without your craft." Now, Dori actually managed a smile. "What are you going to make?"

"Oh, you know. A new pair of gloves for Fíli, to replace the pair that had to be destroyed." Fíli had seemed truly crestfallen about it, but had admitted the necessity of it. They could not afford the epidemic spreading again just because he was too attached to a piece of clothing.

"Really?" Dori blinked. "I mean, I suppose I can see how he would need new ones, but do you really want your first new project to be the same as your last one? I know how you hate repeating things right after another."

"Well, yes." Ori couldn't help but smile, now. "It will make things a lot easier if I have a return gift ready when he finally manages to make a proper courtship gift, don't you think?"

And if Dori spluttered only a moment before launching into a tirade of questions and shouts and everything between, well, that was just fine. It was nice to hear something besides his own voice and pained coughs at last. It was even nicer when Dori drew him into another crushing hug and whispered how he knew this would make Ori happy.

As though Ori had had any doubts.


End file.
